


The River

by scorpiomarrow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Codependency, Coming of Age, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ghosts, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Non-Explicit Sex, Platonic Soulmates, Police Officer Brienne of Tarth, Police Officer Jaime Lannister, Ramsay Bolton is His Own Warning, River Spirits, Robb Stark is a Gift, Romantic Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, i mean as happy as it can get, to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:09:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29074599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiomarrow/pseuds/scorpiomarrow
Summary: Somebody's bed will never be warm again, the river will keep this friend.“How… how did you die?”Robb seemed only a little surprised, and Theon assumed that it was because Robb had never before told Theon that he was dead, and for a moment Theon wondered if his assumption was incorrect. “I thought that you believed I was a river spirit, born from the forest?”Theon shook his head. “I did for a while, but, I don’t know. I guess I started thinking about it more after I met your mum, and things just started to fall into place.”“Well.” Robb wriggled into a position more comfortable before he began. “You’re correct, I’m dead.”
Relationships: Jaime lannister/Brienne of Tarth (mentioned), Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 25





	The River

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This fic is inspired by the song The River by Missy Higgins and I strongly recommend checking it out.  
> As mentioned in the tags, Ramsay Bolton is mentioned in this story. He is a big character, however, most of the torture that Theon endured has been watered down and almost entirely glossed over.  
> This also applies to the domestic violence Theon experiences growing up, but just like with Ramsay I aimed to keep the primary focus on Robb and Theon, rather than their time apart.  
> Another heads up that this story does deal with suicidal thoughts/actions, but it does not mention or imply self-harm, please be cautious if this may be triggering.  
> Thanks!  
> I would like to thank Soulmeetingbody for beta reading this and putting up with my spam of loose plot points. [ Here.](/users/%5Bsoulmeetingbody%5D/)

The first time Theon spotted the eyes which lurked in the river was when he was eight years old. In his younger years, Theon’s mother used to tell stories of the faeries that lived around the rivers and lakes which lurked in the woods surrounding their house. She spoke of their sharp claws and wicked eyes, and how if he was to wander too deep into the woods without his older siblings accompanying him, they would snatch him away and eat him for supper. Theon’s older siblings obviously understood in their later years that these tales were merely stories that kept them from the chance of falling into the surrounding bodies of water and drowning, and Theon may too have believed the same if it had not been for his encounter with the young boy named Robb Stark. 

With Asha and their mother away in town, and Theon’s father away at work, Theon was left to the mercy of his older brothers on that cool September day. With the season set in the middle of autumn, the trees surrounding Theon’s house had already finished their shift from green into a collage of oranges, yellows, and fiery reds- it was Theon’s favourite season. But as Theon kicked and squirmed in his brothers’ hold, the leaves blended together into a smudge amongst the blue sky above him. 

Eventually, the muttered curses of his older brothers were drowned out by the sound of the water which rushed just upstream as they drew closer and closer to Green Fork River. Theon, who had always been small, struggled harder against his brothers in a last act of desperation which proved to be useless, however, when it was Maron and Rodrick. With Maron being twice his age- and Rodrick almost triple, his efforts only angered them further as they shoved Theon’s small frame down onto the soft mud of the riverbank. The Greyjoy family lived in an isolated part of Ireland, on the outskirts of a small coastal town called New Pyke, which was closer to the Iron Islands than any other major town even with the bay in between. So as Rodrick seized his little brother by the back of his collar and shoved his head forward into the icy water of the river, nobody heard his pleas in between desperate gasps of air. 

It was on the third or fourth dunk when either Rodrick or Maron pushed it just a little too far, and Theon’s small lungs sucked in a mouthful of river water, that was when he saw the face in the water. It felt like he stared at the young boy’s rippling face for at least a minute and a half, but if he really had for so long he would have indefinitely drowned in that river- perhaps he did. The water was a dull brown, and it burned at his eyes when he opened them, but Theon knew that below that water he saw a pair of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen staring back at him, with drifting curls the colour of the autumn leaves. 

Theon couldn’t recall when everything had gone black, but his eyes burst open with the memory of the boy’s face drifting away as he spluttered and coughed water out and onto the bank beside him. His lungs burned as he heaved in deep mouthfuls of air, and when he looked up at his brothers standing over him, his brain felt fuzzy. Nonetheless, he was still deathly aware of the fact that his brothers’ mercy was for the sake of their mother, and not him. Equally, he was entirely sure that he had seen a face below the water. 

With their fun now ruined, Rodrik and Maron left Theon soaked on the riverbank. Theon didn’t have the strength to walk home, and helplessly he longed for his mother or Asha to come and find him, and as the cold began to set into his bones he even hoped for his father to seek him out. 

“Hello?” came a voice so quiet that Theon nearly didn’t catch it, and Theon’s heart leapt with hope- but as his eyes scanned the tree line, he did not see his mother, or father, or Asha. “Behind you,” it spoke again, louder this time. 

Theon nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun around to face the river, only to come face-to-face with whoever he had seen below the water. The young boy was kneeling on the ground with his small palms pressed into the mud in front of him as he inspected Theon cautiously with the body language of a wild animal. 

With a tilt of his head, he spoke again, “Are you alright?”  
“I- I-” Theon spluttered, looking between the stranger and the river that he had very clearly emerged from- but despite this fact, he looked entirely dry. “Where did you come from? Nobody lives in that river.”  
The boy tutted and dismissed his statement casually, “Perhaps not your kind of people. My name is Robb Stark.” Almost all of Robb’s body was clothed in cotton, leather, and thick animal fur, beside his pale face and hand, which was now muddy and outstretched towards Theon’s. 

“Theon Greyjoy,” he replied sceptically, and slowly reached out to shake Robb’s hand with his own dirty one. However, as soon as Theon’s hand wrapped around Robb’s slightly larger one, he couldn’t help but whip his hand back with a shocked gasp.

“Your hand- it’s cold as ice,” Theon cried, rubbing his palm against his muddy jeans in a useless attempt to warm it.  
Robb only looked at him sadly and said something which only confused Theon further. “I’d stay away from this river, Theon. If you’re not careful you might drown someday.” 

Theon was just about to question Robb’s strange warning when he heard a feminine voice calling his name in the distance, and when he looked back at the boy from the river- he was gone. Theon sat still in place until Asha came tumbling down to the river bank, looking out to the water with great worry on her face, and it wasn’t until Theon began to wail a few meters beside her that she noticed him. 

“Ma!” she called into the trees, wasting no time to shed her coat and wrap it around her smaller brother who was beginning to turn blue from the cold. Moments later his mother came racing down to the bank along Asha’s trail of footprints and had eyes full of tears as she scooped the small child into her strong arms. For the next week, Theon was delirious and bedridden as he fought off a powerful fever, and when he told his mother of the faery he had met by the river his truthfulness was written off with his other unconscious babbling. 

The lie Maron and Rodrik told was enough to fool their parents- that the boy had snuck off while they were behind the house chopping firewood- but Asha’s hatred for them only grew. Following Theon’s first but not last near-death experience, his mother refused to let him try to speak about Robb as she believed that Theon had leaned so close to death that he had seen Him himself. 

For a long while later Theon stayed away from the Green Fork and refused to travel up to Ironman’s Bay in his dad’s old truck unless his only other option was to remain alone with his brothers. However, as time passed, Theon’s paralysing fear of bodies of water shifted into something close to infatuation, and it was only months later that he found himself alone at the river once more. 

His siblings were out on a day trip to the bay with their father while Theon stayed home with his mother, Theon was a lonely boy, and often found himself busying his mind with helping her do the house chores. This odd habit was one that, while Alannys loved the help that Asha was determined to avoid, Balon despised, as it was in his mind the woman’s duty to care for the home. 

His mother was taking a nap in the afternoon, just after she and Theon had finished folding the towels when Theon pulled on his sweater and old coat before sneaking out the door. The tall trees seemed to whisper to one another as the short, frail boy trekked through the woods towards the river. Only months ago, Theon would have feared the whistling between the leaves, but after his encounter at the river it seemed that they were whispering to him in a tongue he did not understand, but they took pity on him.

When he reached the bank, he took a seat on the body of a dead tree, and after a long moment of awkward stillness, he picked up a pebble and tossed it into the water like a coin in a well. Nothing happened at first, but then the pebble shot back out of the water and landed at his feet. A moment later those red curls had emerged from the river- dry, but still swaying as if the air moved around them as thickly as water- with a large toothy grin just below those incredible blue eyes. 

“I’m happy to see you,” Robb beamed as he greeted Theon, emerging from the water with those thick furs over his shoulders.  
Theon frowned. “Why’s that?”  
Robb looked confused as he said, “If it weren’t for the Trees I’d’ve thought you dead.”  
Theon ignored him and rocked forward on his palms. “Tell me, Robb. I have to ask- what are you? Are you a Faery? My mum said so.”  
Robb looked at Theon blankly, then his face slipped into a smile again as his small hands folded to rest behind his back. “Well, I was given a name by my mother- so I cannot be a Faery. I’m a spirit, Theon.”  
Robb looked amused by the confused look on Theon’s face and changed the conversation as he came to sit beside him, careful to keep distance between them. “You’ll understand when you’re older, love.”  
“You can’t call me that,” Theon said as he giggled behind his hand.  
Robb tutted at himself and shook his head, making Theon giggle again. “You’re right, silly me.”  
Theon nudged Robb with his elbow, very aware of the chill it sent through him despite the layers of fabric between them. “You’re quite peculiar, Robb. I’ll tell you what- I’ve got to run home before Mum wakes up but I’ll come back when I can. I’ll bring a game for us to play too, do you like Battleships?”  
Robb shrugged easily and replied, “Never heard of it.”  
“You’ll love it- I’ll teach it to you,” Theon promised as he hopped down from the overturned tree. The two farewelled each other promptly with the faith that it wouldn’t be long before their paths crossed again, and Theon made it home only minutes before his mother began to stir. 

Theon stayed true to his word, and although it was nearly a week until he was given the opportunity to sneak out again, when he did so it was with the worn board game’s box tucked below his armpit. 

For more than a year later, Theon would continue to sneak out behind his sister and mother’s backs, in between his brothers’ ruthless bullying, and below his father’s scornful look of disapproval. Theon never made friends at school, and while even at such a young age he experienced periods of emptiness- he has Robb. Robb makes everything better. 

But nobody could prepare Theon for the cards he had been dealt, and only a month after his tenth birthday was when his life began to start its downhill spiral. Theon could remember it clearly, it was just another day- he’d come back from hours of hanging out with Robb now that his mother allowed him to venture alone at his older age. He had noticed the police car before he saw the two police officers standing at his front door with their hats held to their chests. The sound of his mother’s wailing shook the young boy to his very core, and he remembered the way that the Trees had all given the poor woman a moment of silence in respect. 

It was the Trees who told him before his sister did later that night with dry eyes, that Maron and Rodrik had gotten into an accident and Maron had been killed. The Trees warned Theon about Rodrik’s decreasing stability, but his family members merely sent Theon out of the room whenever he tried to speak to them. 

A week later Rodrik lost it. He had gone into town to drink and then visited the local brothel, there wasn’t a witness to explain what had set Rodrik off but the evidence proved him guilty. Rodrik had brutally murdered the prostitute and faced almost a lifetime in prison- he’d die from a stab wound sixteen years later. 

It wasn’t long after that, that his mother’s health and sanity declined with the loss of her two eldest sons. Theon could only watch as her eyes became sunken, her skin turned yellow and thin and she developed a cough so severe that one day she packed her bags, and Uncle Rodrik came in his car to move her away to live with him in Harlaw. Balon did not know of this until he returned from work in the evening, and without a phone number, or the address of his brother-in-law’s home in Harlaw, Alannys was gone.

The house, once too small for a family of six, now seemed too large for the three which remained. Slowly, Theon began to forget his friend by the river, as he was overcome with duties no child should have to bear- at the age of ten Theon was doing the laundry and cooking dinner on more nights than not. Asha was only thirteen, and nowhere near capable of keeping the family on her feet by herself- not with the mess that Balon had become, and Theon could see the look in her eyes. Asha always looked as if she were ready to fly away, and as much as she slowly began to lose touch with baby brother, he knew that there was nothing left of his family. 

Theon was painfully correct, Asha ended up dropping out of high school and becoming a crewmate on a ship, where she worked for months on end before returning home with the money they needed to live on for the next few months she spent away at sea. Most would think that fourteen was too young to be working aboard a ship- but Asha had the reputation of being her father’s daughter, and had more than enough skill under her belt to manage. When she was back in Pyke, Asha never stayed for long, Theon knew how much she loved the sea, and how uncomfortable being home made her.

So Theon could never blame his sister for leaving him in the hands of their father. Balon had always been a drinker, but it began to become a problem not long after Asha disappeared on her first voyage, and he succumbed to a crippling addiction months before she had made it back to Pyke. She was perfectly aware of Balon’s actions, she could smell the whisky on him, and in her presence, her father did not bother to temporarily silence the wicked words he spat at Theon. 

They sat in a tense silence in September, a few nights after Theon’s eleventh birthday. Asha had brought a small cake back from town on her way home but did not have the money to spare for a birthday present when they barely had enough money to buy Theon new clothes for the coming winter. Theon was grateful nonetheless as he leaned forward and blew out the single short candle that they’d used the year before, they didn’t bother to sing happy birthday.

“What’d you wish for, Theon?” Asha asked as she sliced up the small cake and served them onto plates.  
Theon glanced at his sister out of politeness, but his eyes were glued to the slice of cake she handed to him. “I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” Theon replied, taking a large spoonful of cake into his mouth and continuing with his mouth full, “But… a new bike would be real cool.” 

Balon’s cry of disgust startled the siblings, Theon more so than Asha, who had begun to master a scowl designed to keep back disapproving fishermen. Their father sneered at his youngest son as he slurred, “How dare you, boy. Going ‘round complaining ‘bout how we can’t get you what you want. Shouldn’t you be wishin’ for your mother to come running back? Or have you forgotten about her, just like how you forgot about your brothers?”

Asha was on her feet in moments, standing up so quickly that her chair fell backward onto the floor with a bang as she began to ridicule her father. Theon watched as his sister, only the age of fourteen but with the appearance of someone much older, fell into an intense argument with her father for Theon’s sake. All that Theon did was stare between them, unsure of what they were saying as they struggled to speak over one another. 

Balon raised to his feet and repeated something about Theon whilst gesturing to him with a bottle in hand, and both voices fell into immediate silence as the bottle hit Theon’s head. Intentional or not, Balon had managed to just about knock Theon out of his chair, and as Theon let out a cry of pain his hand reached up to his head out of reflex. Both Asha and Balon remained still as they stared at Theon while he slowly retracted his hand with a smear of dark blood on his palm. 

As soon as the screaming started again, Theon was on his feet and running out of the room, not bothering to grab his coat as he raced out into the bitter autumn night. Nobody called after him as he stumbled into the sunset coloured trees, and for the first time in over a long year, he could hear them whisper about him as he passed. Theon only realised where his thin legs had carried him to when he tripped and stumbled down into the mud of the riverbank, and his mouth was open before he even thought to stand again. 

“Robb!” he croaked, scampering forward until his wrists were submerged in the icy cold water of the river. His snot and tears dripped into the dark water which met the bank below him as he pleaded for his forgotten friend to show himself and almost sobbed with relief when those bright blue eyes, now squinted with concern, met his.

The boy, now taller than the last time they had met and with shoulders much broader, kneeled just before Theon with his hands hovering above his shoulders. He seemed to be longing to touch Theon, to comfort him physically, but Theon could still recall his icy touch from years ago and there was a particular chill in the air that night.

Robb’s eyes flicked to the cut on Theon’s forehead, which had trickled blood down onto his eyebrow, and a small but reassuring smile slipped onto Robb’s face as he said, “I’ll be right back, Theon.”

Theon was too busy trying to get a grip on his emotions to say anything as Robb backed up in silent steps and waded back into the water. Theon wasn’t sure where Robb had gotten it, but the distinct smell of lemon balm came from the bundle of plants in Robb’s palm. Theon’s mother would often use it for his and his siblings’ cuts and scrapes- and he was certain that the plant didn’t grow on the floor of a river. 

Still, Robb wasn’t exactly a regular boy, and Theon held his tongue as Robb silently mashed the leaves against a flat rock nearby. Robb’s fingers were cold against Theon’s forehead as he gently applied the mush of green plant to the sensitive cut, but Theon found that as uncomfortable as it was, it was the most tender touch he’d received in far too long. 

“I want to hold your hands,” Theon spoke softly with a sniffle, his tears having now stopped.  
Robb smiled sadly. “If I could, I’d hold you to my chest and push my fingers through your hair. I’d keep you safe with me as long as you like, and maybe you could meet my family.”  
“But I can’t,” Theon replied flatly with a disappointed frown.  
Robb shook his head and agreed, “But we can’t. You know how cold I am, I’m as cold as the Green Fork.”  
“Warmer than anyone else I’ve got right now though,” Theon huffed out before taking a long moment of silence. “I don’t want to go home, Robb.”

Robb did not reply immediately, but very carefully reached forward to wrap his hands around the too-long sleeves of Theon’s hand me down sweater, which had unrolled and fallen past his fingers. They were long enough that the chill of Robb’s skin did not numb his fingertips, but the touch was close enough to give comfort and connection. 

“If you stay here, you’ll die.”  
Theon looked Robb dead in the eyes as he said, “Maybe I’m okay with that.”  
Robb shook his head, and soon that damned smile was back on his face, but Theon didn’t miss the look in his eyes. “Don’t be silly, love,” he said. “You promised me another game of tic-tac-toe, you know? We never finished our best of three- I’ve been waiting years.”  
The frown was still present on Theon’s face so Robb pursed his lips for a moment and busied himself with rubbing Theon’s woollen sleeves between his fingers and thumbs. “If it helps, your father isn’t home. He left a few minutes ago, he’s sleeping in town tonight. Asha’s waiting for you.”

Knowing that his father wasn’t going to be home for the night and that he might not see him until tomorrow evening was reassuring, but he quietly dreaded what Asha was going to say- or what she wouldn’t. The walk home was short but seemed to drag on for longer than it should have. Occasionally the cry of an owl or the snapping of a branch would spook Theon as he imagined what it was that lurked about, stalking him from the shadows. But then he’d think of Robb and imagine his family, scattered about the woods and granting him safe passage amongst the chatter of the trees.

Robb was correct, when Theon arrived home his father and his truck were gone, and Asha was standing in the doorway with a hand-rolled cigarette between her lips. Theon saw the tension leave her eyes when she caught sight of him, but she was far from relaxed following the events of his birthday dinner. Her frown only tightened when she saw the mud on Theon’s clothes, the leaves stuck to his cut, and his sleeves, which were frozen together at the ends. 

“Bloody hell,” she said around the cigarette, taking one last drag before carefully stamping it out and putting it back into her tin for later. “Where were you? What’s that on your face? Come over to the fireplace, you’re freezing.”  
“I was out in the woods. It’s lemon balm,” Theon answered as his sister tugged him over to the small fireplace, which immediately doused him in its warmth when he drew near. Theon honestly hadn’t noticed his frozen sleeves, but he figured that since they were already damp, Robb had frozen them when they’d held hands. 

“What’s that? You were mumbling,” Asha said as she came back into the room with a new sweater in her arms.  
Theon looked at her with wide eyes. “Nothing but- Asha that’s one of Rodriks’ sweaters. You know I can't touch his stuff.”  
“Yeah, well I’ve seen how most of my old stuff is starting to get small for you, and what hasn’t is stretched or falling apart. You haven't even had your growth spurt yet. You need it more than Rodrik, Theon. Dad probably won’t even notice.” 

When Theon still wouldn’t move to take off the sweater, which was now dripping at the sleeves, Asha grabbed the hem and pulled it over his head for him. She didn’t make any cold remarks about how he was old enough to be dressing himself, just helped him slip his arms through the holes of the baggy, thick sweater.

Asha moved to take a seat at the dinner table, leaving Theon by the fire. “You know that their sweaters are better than any of mine, right?” she asked, opening the tin back up and relighting her cigarette with a match. “Dad was always alright with buying them the good quality stuff, but the younger you are, the further down the pecking order you sit.”

Theon didn’t say anything, but everything Asha was saying was what he already knew from first-hand experience. He’d seen the ways that Balon would give the older boys a clap on the shoulder and stern look of pride when they’d come home from fishing with a catch large enough to serve as the family dinner. Asha was only three years younger than Rodrik, and just as skilled at fishing and sailing as Maron, but her father had never once praised her for her skill. It was as if a metaphorical drawbridge had been raised between the children, and stayed that way following the loss of both eldest boys.

“There’s a ship leaving tomorrow in the early afternoon. I’m going to work aboard it for the next few months. You can come too if you’d like, you could work as the steward- washing and ironing the clothes and sheets.”  
Theon thought about it but then shook his head. “I’ve got school.”  
Asha shrugged and said, “You don’t need a high school level education to get a lifetime of work in the bay. You’re a Greyjoy.”  
“I’m lousy at fishing and sailing, Asha. You know that. You’re right that I could work as a steward, but I can’t live on that for the rest of my life.”

Asha looked saddened, but let it go and never made the offer again. As per usual, Theon was given the envelope of money needed for school and other needs, while Asha slipped a second envelope into Balon’s bedside drawer that he could chew through with alcohol without sending them into starvation. And just like that, Asha was gone again. Their farewell was short and awkward but Theon stood waiting on the porch for a full ten minutes until the Saturday morning bus arrived to take her into the bay’s town. 

“Ha! I win, eleven to nine, Robb!” Theon squawked happily, dancing around the river bank clumsily, but careful not to tread on their game. Robb was frowning, but Theon had grown to often mock the other boy’s competitive nature rather than getting offended.  
“Come on, best of thirty,” Robb said as Theon crouched down to help him brush away the naughts and crosses in the sand so that they could play another round, but the smug grin never left Theon’s face. 

The pair sat in comfortable silence while they played, but eventually, Robb spoke, “Are you still going to school?”  
Theon drew a cross in one of the corner squares, cutting Robb off from his three-in-a-row. “Yeah, I’ve just finishing my final year of primary school. The only senior school near Pyke is in Ironman’s Bay, which means I’ll have to spend an hour on the bus every morning.”  
Robb didn’t reply, and when Theon looked up his face was set in a frown. “What’s got you upset?” he asked, pausing his turn.  
“You’ve only just started coming back, and now you’re going to be off at school even longer. You’ll forget about me again.”  
Theon shook his head. “Nonsense, I was stupid to forget about you in the first place. Why on Earth would I do it again?” Robb remained silent and glaring at the floor, so Theon twisted his body so that he could look up at his frowning face. “You’re my best friend, Robb. I promise.” 

Robb’s stern frown cracked into a small smile, and he leaned back as Theon rose to his feet and unwrapped the scarf which he kept around his neck. “Come on, let’s go for a walk,” he said, holding onto one end of the scarf and gesturing for Robb to take the other.  
Robb rose to his feet. “What about the game?” he pointed out, taking hold of the scarf nonetheless.  
“Fuck the game,” Theon said with a grin, his lips sucked into his mouth mischievously. “We can keep playing another day.”  
Robb smiled slowly and twisted his hand around the soft wool of the scarf. “Alright.”

Suddenly things were just how they used to be back when Theon’s only worries were avoiding his older brothers, not on what to cook for dinner, and the dirty clothes piling up in the laundry room. Except, a few days later a new problem had been added to the young boy’s list of troubles.

Theon wasn’t sure if it had been the argument Balon had, had with Asha, or the strike he’d given Theon that night that caused it. But when Balon returned home days later stinking of beer and with an empty wallet, the pleasure he felt in crushing Theon with words didn’t seem to satisfy him anymore. Nothing did, except for whatever it was that he felt when he copped Theon around the ear as he walked by, or the slap he’d direct to Theon’s cheek when the boy made too much of a racket. 

When this first started, Balon would have Theon fleeing out the door and to Robb’s comfort at the river, but as the months drifted by, Theon found that Robb’s repetitive soothing words lost their effect. Eventually, it became something the two wouldn’t speak of, but Theon could never stop Robb from crushing up lemon balm against the rocks in an effort to treat the cuts and grazes. 

“Happy fifteenth Birthday, Theon,” Robb said with a smile and Theon looked at him with a smile. The pair had been swimming in the river just like they often did in the summer, often enough that even while Theon was still far from muscular like Robb, he’d begun to develop a swimmer’s build in his shoulders. Now it was September again, and even though it had begun to cool, Robb still convinced Thein to come into the water more days than not.

While the leaves had not yet turned the colour of Robb’s red hair, Theon had come to love the warmth that came with summer, and often he wished it would never end. The river was never as cold, and it meant that the pair could touch skin-to-skin for longer periods of time without Theon going numb from the cold.

“I didn’t think you remembered.”  
Robb nodded and explained, “Of course I did. So, I know that you’ll be starting another new school year in winter, and- well, mum helped me make this for you.”

The two had been seated on the overturned tree, and Theon didn’t say anything as Robb hopped down and reached into the river water. From behind him, Theon was able to take in the muscles in Robb’s back which flexed as he bent down, and the cascade of freckles that tumbled across his skin.

Sometimes Theon would feel self-conscious about stripping off his shirt in front of Robb, who wasn’t underfed and didn’t have bruises decorating his arms and torso in shades of yellow and purple. But this was Robb, who Theon knew would never judge him for such a thing, and he would often forget the attributes he often longed for. 

“Close your eyes,” Robb said as he pulled whatever it was he was reaching for out of the water. 

Theon huffed in discomfort but closed them anyway, holding his hands out with his palms out expectantly and eager. However, Theon didn’t feel pressure on his palms, but instead on his right wrist. Robb tutted Theon when threatened to open his eyes after smelling burning plastic, but against his gut instinct, he kept them closed until Robb told him that he could open them again. He was glad he hadn’t ruined the surprise. 

Around his wrist was a delicately crafted junk-bracelet, which had been made with bits and pieces most definitely found in the river. Bound in the synthetic fishing rope was a couple of small bells, a small, blunt fishing hook, and even an old engagement ring, amongst other water damaged relics. The smell of burning plastic had been accurate, using a match from the box that Theon had brought upon Robb’s request, the synthetic rope had been sealed together at a point where it sat comfortably, but Theon would be unable to take it off unless he used a knife.

Theon closed his mouth, which had been hanging open for quite some time, and looked up at Robb. “Did you say that your mum made this?”  
“Yeah, but I picked out the parts.” Robb nodded. “Honestly, she didn’t want me talking to you- a human, at first. But I think she caved. The bracelet is supposed to grant you protection, but the Gods that would be granting said protection were forgotten hundreds of years ago, so I doubt it’ll do much.”  
Theon laughed aloud and hiccupped at the end. “I don’t care, this is the first gift I’ve received in years that isn’t hand me down clothes,” he said, lurching forward to hug Robb’s cold body. “Thank you so much, Robb- and, uh…”  
Robb gave him a gentle squeeze to the nape of his neck as he said, “Catelyn”  
“Catelyn,” Theon repeated as the two parted, but his grip remained on Robb’s shoulders as he gazed at the bracelet. “Thank you, Catelyn. I’m in debt.”  
Robb twisted around to look at the slowly moving river water before tugging Theon down from the log by the hips. “Why don't you come say hello?”

Theon followed Robb to the bank hand-in-hand and didn’t let go until they’d waded into chest level water, and he needed his hands to keep the water from pulling him away in its gentle current. When Theon gave a gasp of surprise when he felt something brush across his hip and leg, Robb giggled behind his hand. 

“Was that-” he began to ask, but Robb was already nodding happily.  
“You won’t be able to see her, not like you can see me. Not yet, at least,” Robb explained, allowing himself to drift onto his back and enjoy the pulse of the river.

Theon didn’t panic the second time when he felt what he assumed was the feeling of thin fabric (he assumed a skirt) drifted across his skin, or when what was definitely hands slipped under his arms and onto his chest. Theon felt his body relax as the hands slowly pulled him beneath the cool river’s surface. Below the water, Theon could hear the sound of almost everything. The sound of the rocks tumbling across the floor, the wind which whistled against the surface, and the whispers of men and women young and old alike. Then he was being torn away from the quiet and back to the surface by Robb’s strong arm, and the peace he’d felt had been replaced by heavy breathing and sore lungs. 

“Fucking hell!” Theon croaked as Robb pulled him up into the shallows of the riverbank, panting from the effort.  
Robb dropped down to sit beside him and nodded, still trying to catch his breath. “Fucking hell indeed.” He twisted to face Theon with a desperate look on his face. “I’m so sorry, Theon. I didn’t think that would happen- it was an accident.”  
Theon held up a hand and shook it to silence Robb. “No- it's okay. At least I think it is. What happened?”  
“You met my mother,” Robb replied sheepishly.  
Theon probably wasn’t as shocked as he should have been, but when your best friend is a forest spirit- things can usually get way more than weird. He nodded slowly and asked, “And she… tried to drown me?”  
“Not intentionally. She just wanted to get a good look at you. It’s been a long time since we’ve had someone like you visit the river.”

For Theon’s sixteenth birthday, Asha was able to come down to celebrate for the first time since he’d turned eleven. She’d always wish him a happy birthday whenever she was on land, but it was never on the exact day, usually it was a couple of weeks off. He never got anything close to a cake though, not since it had been soured by the argument between Asha and Balon years ago. 

On Theon’s last night of being fifteen, they took their father’s truck with Asha in the driver's seat, and Theon rolling a cigarette for her in the passenger's seat as they drove into town to visit the Drowned God bar. The plan was to get there late in the night so that Theon could have his first drink as he turned sixteen, it wasn’t necessarily legal, but in Pyke, no one cared enough to make it an issue. 

Asha glanced at him as he carefully twisted the paper and raised a brow. “When’d you get so good at rolling?”  
“Dad has me roll them for him, sometimes for the other guys too on game night,” he explained with a hint of pride as he lit the end and passed it to his older sister. 

Asha hummed in response and took a deep drag, only some of the smoke she released passing through the gap in the window while the majority swirled around inside the car. The silence between them was awkward, and Theon didn’t particularly enjoy the CD which Asha had playing. A moment later the truck came to a shuddering stop as Asha pulled off the road, and Theon frowned at her as she unclipped her seatbelt and opened the door.

Theon watched as she walked around the hood of the car to his side as he asked, “What are you doing?”  
Asha only smiled smugly. “I’m gonna teach you to drive, after all- I’m buying drinks, the least you could do is drive us home.”  
“What? I know nothing about driving,” he argued, looking around at the dirt road ahead of them. “It’s dark too.”  
Asha scoffed and pulled his door open. “Do you think I had a driving instructor when mum left? I was behind the wheel by the age of fourteen, little brother. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

Theon stared at Asha unsurely for a long moment before he finally caved and unclipped his seatbelt, sliding out of the seat and through the door. Asha cheered and clapped him on the back firmly, and Theon flinched a lot more than he would've liked when Asha’s palm struck a delicate bruise. She didn’t seem to notice his reaction as she slid into his seat, or perhaps she did but chose not to comment on it- for his or her sake, he did not know.

Theon was endlessly thankful that his father wasn’t so thick headed that he’d prefer manual over automatic, but even with the automatic gear shifts, the truck still lurched back and forth as Theon struggled to ease on and off of the acceleration. 

Asha cussed as they hit the pothole she’d warned him to swerve around and he took his foot off the acceleration. “Come on, why do I need to know this? It’s not like dad would let me take the truck anywhere, anyway.”  
From the corner of his eye, Theon saw Asha bristle beside him. “What do you want me to tell you? Fucks sake, I’m not mum. You want to continue school, you’re gonna have a way out of Pyke- you do know that there’s a whole other world further inland, right?”  
“I like living here in Pyke! It’s my home,” Theon argued.  
Asha laughed, “Don’t try that with me. You may have a heart of water, I know that, but you’re no sailor.”

Theon didn’t answer, and when Asha told him to hit the accelerator again he followed her commands. By the time they made it to town, which was lit up with the nightlife of the lowlifes, Theon drove decently enough to blend in with the other tipsy folk on the road. Apart from this, Asha reassured him that no police officers were going to pull them up on it, nor would anyone stop her from buying him a drink at the bar that night. 

The tension in the car was nothing compared to the bar, which was dominated by unruly greying men- the vast majority of which were sailors. Theon instinctively pushed his chest out a little further in faux confidence as he followed his sister towards the bar, stopping at almost every table as one sailor after the other called out to greet her. 

Asha spoke of her time away on the ships every now and again when she visited, but she and Theon weren’t usually the chatty type. Either way, seeing it first hand, the way that the man in the bar sent her looks of longing, of respect, and of pride, was rather off-putting. The Greyjoy’s had a reputation in this bay, Rodrik and Maron upheld it even after their demise, and Asha was a Greyjoy without question, but Theon was the forgotten son- the boy who preferred freshwater to salt. Theon allowed Asha to pull him up onto a barstool, but almost immediately after she ordered them a pint each, she was away in a conversation with an old bearded man like they were old friends. 

“Is this your first at the Drowned God? You look a little lost,” a voice spoke from behind the bar, startling Theon. He turned to look at the face of the bartender for a long moment and found that he didn’t recognise him- but the look in his eyes felt familiar in a way that he wasn’t yet sure was comforting or unnerving. 

Theon’s eyes followed the pint of beer that the bartender placed before him before looking back up and giving his answer. “I’m afraid not, I’d reckon everyone born on Pyke has visited the Drowned God more times than they can count before they’re even old enough to have a drink. You’re not from around here, though. Are you?”  
The bartender gave a chuckle at Theon’s reply and shook his head. “No, I live up in Dreadfort. I come out here every now and then for the work though, my dad owns the place.”  
Theon’s face twisted and he held up a hand. “Hold on, sorry, you live in a place called Dreadfort?” he repeated, his mouth shamelessly hanging open in shock.  
With a laugh and a nod, he agreed, “I know, and believe me the name is just as fitting for the town.”  
“Your accent too… is that..?”  
“Scottish, Dreadfort is up in Scotland.”

Although little time had passed, Theon had rarely had alcohol before now, and as an eager teenager, he’d obviously drunk a lot more than anyone over the legal age would have in such a short time. He was drinking like a man who was dying of dehydration, and its effects were beginning to show, but his bartender made no comment.

“I doubt that there’s any place worse than Pyke, though. I mean, I love this place- it’s my home, but it’s so… isolated. It’s impossible to find work here that isn’t on a ship deck, and it’s like Pyke is a world of its own.” He paused to thank the bartender, who refilled his empty glass, before continuing. “I’d love to travel to other countries- to see England, but bloody hell, I don’t even have a passport.”

Unbeknownst to Theon, who was necking the next pint, it was only that last sentence that seemed to catch the bartender’s attention, but just as he went to reply he was cut short by the sound of smashing glass as a table was sent crashing to the ground somewhere else in the bar. Theon spun around with a dozen other heads to see Asha swinging at another greying man while the bar erupted into cheers around her, delighted by the entertainment. Theon swore under his breath as he half-stumbled off of his stool and into the crowd, which bustled around him and almost knocked him to his feet as he squeezed out and into the circle.

No one bothered to try to pull the young woman off of the old man, who she now had on the floor as she straddled him and pummelled him with one punch after the other. Theon wrapped his arms around her and struggled to pull her off from under the armpits while she fought against him and spewed foul language at the older man who was still struggling to his feet. 

“Come on, Asha. You’ve beaten him bloody, let’s go home- you’ve won,” Theon grunted into her ear over the booing of the other bar-goers.  
She snarled in reply, “Not until that fucker has eaten his words! Who does he think he is? Spitting on our name?”  
“Believe me, he’s eaten his words alright.” Just as Theon said so, the man, obviously well over his limit, came charging blindly at the siblings with a battle cry. On instinct and with much more experience, Asha ducked away to avoid the charge, but with his eyes both swollen closed and bloody, the man slammed into an unmoving Theon who’s response time had been slowed dramatically due to his own intoxication. 

The bar-goers cackled at the sight, happy for the conflict to continue and obviously expecting Theon to kick the guy's ass and finish him off just like his sister had, and Theon couldn’t help but believe that Asha was a part of those witnesses as she didn’t come to help him. The older man was much heavier than Theon so the young boy had no chance of pushing him off, and he received each blow with his hands striking blindly at the greying man’s frame. Theon’s vision was beginning to swim when everything fell into silence with a sickening smash, and a moment later the older man fell on top of him completely with dead weight. 

Theon grasped blindly at the hand which pulled him up after the old man had been rolled off of him, and as his vision eventually cleared he saw that it was the man from the bar, his face now stricken with concern. “I wasn’t sure if you were a Greyjoy or not when we first spoke.” 

“I- what,” Theon spluttered in reply, looking down at the broken bottle on the floor which the bartender had seemed to have smashed over the other man’s head.  
“Now,” he began, turning to face the other residents. “I’d love to keep our beloved Greyjoys around.” He turned back to Theon and Asha. “But I’m sure you two understand that, for legal reasons, it would be best for you to head home. It was nice to finally meet you, Theon. I hope we speak again.”

The nameless bartender ended up charging Asha for both their drinks and also for the damage she had caused in her fight with who turned out to be a man named Robett from further up in the north. That explained quite a lot, as most of the fights that started in the bar were by outsiders spending a night or two in Pyke until the next ship arrived, who accidentally wandered into the patriotic bar and said one thing or another that the locals found offensive. The bar which the locals had dubbed the tourists’ bar was just across the road and held no mercy in its name: The Sea Bitch.

It was Asha who ended up driving the pair home, as even though she had been well drunk, her anger seemed to have sobered her up quite a bit. Theon on the other hand couldn’t drive anyway, because his mind was spinning with alcohol and painkillers, and his hands were full of bloody tissues that he held to his bleeding nose. 

Asha held her tongue for much longer than most Ironborn usually would, but the blow was inevitable. “How could you just let him lay into you like that without getting one hit on him? You’re Ironborn- you should be able to fend off some half-beaten Northerner.”  
“Oh get off it,” Theon scoffed bitterly. “You know being Ironborn has nothin’ to do with it- hell, the last generation that actually lived on the Islands was our great grandfather. Maybe you should have swallowed your pride for once in your life and instead be a little more focused on keeping your Ironborn brother from getting beaten to Hell.” 

Theon noticed the way that Asha’s hands tightened around the old steering wheel, but in his moment of alcohol-induced bravery, he did not take back what he said. Asha was not nearly as conservative as their father was, but she, just like all the other locals who lived off the water, took pride in their heritage and old ways. In Pyke, New or old, the strong live and the weak die.

“Don’t you even go there, brother. If you’d’ve said anything like that in the bar I’d’ve let those men tear you apart.”  
Theon groaned, “You already did!” He paused for a moment and then unclipped his seatbelt. “Fuckin’- pull over. I’m walking home.” 

Asha hit the brakes without bothering to argue and Theon’s body ached with pain when he hit the dash, and he threw the door open and climbed out with curses spewing out under his breath. The moment he was on the ground Asha hit the accelerator, the tires spinning in the dirt for a moment before she circled around Theon and took off back towards town, the door swinging and slamming shut as she did so. It was not the first time Theon had walked home in the dark, or with his body weighed down with aches and pains, so after spending a moment kicking up gravel with his boot, he began his long walk home as the cool autumn wind set in.

Asha had made it less than halfway home before she and Theon had gotten into their fight, and usually, there would still be another twenty-five minutes of time in the car with Asha usually flying down the road at over a hundred miles per hour. Theon was not afraid of the dark, word had travelled from the alders at the river to the aspens which lined the dirt road, he could hear their whispers- different from the trees closer to him but still promising. It reminded him of the river, and by the time Theon made it home, he was longing for Robb above all else, but he was also very aware of the heavy exhaustion which had him dragging his feet.

In the end, exhaustion won. Before the sun had cracked dawn, Theon fell into his bed with a deep sigh, ignoring the fact that he was going to have to clean the blood off his pillowcase in the morning. Theon didn’t have someone at home who would pull off his shoes after he passed out, or anyone to leave a painkiller and glass of water by his bed in the morning. When Theon awoke he was still fully dressed, and the pain in his head and his face was so terrible that he would have been bedridden if not for the instinct to run to the bathroom the moment his stomach stirred. 

Theon had never suffered from a hangover before, but he was aware of the fact that he mustn’t be too bad off because he could still remember the events of last night. Slowly, he straightened up from the toilet as his gagging came to an end and hesitantly turned to the mirror to assess the damage that the northerner had done at the bar. At first, it was almost nauseating, but when he took the time to clean the dried blood away with a towel he found that it wasn’t as bad as he first assumed. 

The pillow was well beyond stained so Theon was in no rush to attempt to clean it, and it wasn’t until Theon was sat at the table eating a bowl of almost-stale cereal that he saw the time on the kitchen clock. It was midday. Unknowing to Asha’s plans, he’d promised to meet Robb in the early hours of his birthday. 

As if a gun had gone off, Theon was rushing around the house trying to find fresh clothes, his coat, and everything in between, making as much of a racket as he liked knowing that his father would have already left early in the morning for work on the docks. The house was a mess since Theon had reached the end of the school year, and he found himself tripping up once or twice as he stumbled in and out of his bedroom. Usually, on his birthday, Asha would leave out a bundle of new clothes, or Rodrik and Maron’s hand-me-downs, but as the memories of last night came back to him, he doubted that he’d see her again for a while. He ignored the slight pain in his heart.

Theon was out the back door less than ten minutes later, jogging through the trees along the vague path he’d made after years of treading the same way. It was a sunny day, but there was a chill in the air that caused his breath to turn to steam. He looked up- the trees were beginning to change their leaves, the small bells on his bracelet jingled at his side.

When he reached the bank he was well out of breath, but he didn’t break his pace as he bent down to pick up a rock, throwing it into the water in a fluid motion. And there was Robb, in his boiled leather and fine fur, rising from the water with his wild red curls and those piercing blue eyes. And there was Theon, who was now taller than Robb by no less than a couple inches but would always seem smaller nonetheless. At first, Theon was afraid, assuming that by missing the set time they agreed on Robb would be angered, but this was Robb, and Theon felt ridiculous to have assumed such a thing.

“Bloody Hell,” Robb exclaimed with a laugh as he waded through the water towards the bank where Theon stood. “I’d assumed you’d gone out drinking with that sister of yours, not, what? Did you get into your first bar fight?”  
Theon rolled his eyes, a smile slipping onto his face. “A little bit of both.”  
“Did you win?”  
“Oh yeah, he had me in the first half but I managed to knock him to his ass. A kick to the head was all it took after that, he was out cold,” Theon lied, trying his hardest to sound convincing.  
But this was Robb. “Did you know that when you lie, you start pushing your fingers through your hair, and you can’t meet anyone’s eyes?”  
Theon gave a bark of laughter, “I do not.”  
Robb smirked at him. “You’re doing it right now.”  
Theon’s hand snapped out of his hair and into his coat pockets as he sent Robb a glare. “Fucking fine, okay. Maybe he caught me once or twice when I wasn’t expecting it.”

Theon stormed over to the fallen tree and pulled himself up, and Robb was obviously aware that he’d struck a nerve and pissed his friend off as he approached him slowly, climbing up to sit beside him with that smile still ever-present on his face. “I haven’t wished you a happy birthday yet. Happy Birthday.”  
“Thanks,” Theon muttered. 

The pair sat in a very long silence, soaking up the sunlight which warmed their backs, but Robb’s patience seemed to run out eventually and he broke the tranquillity. “Did you want your birthday present?”  
Theon turned to look at him, his eyebrows downturned in a frown but a small smile present nonetheless. “You got me something?”  
“I did,” Robb said with a nod. “Don’t get too excited though. I’ve decided that I will answer any question you give me, as long as I get to ask you one in return.” 

Theon was very obviously surprised, Robb wasn’t exactly secretive, but he was vague in a way that made it impossible to get a straight answer when you wanted one. “Seriously?”  
Robb nodded again.  
“Okay, shit.” Theon took a deep breath and tapped his hands on his thighs as he wracked his brain. “How… how did you die?”

Robb seemed only a little surprised, and Theon assumed that it was because Robb had never before told Theon that he was dead, and for a moment Theon wondered if his assumption was incorrect. “I thought that you believed I was a river spirit, born from the forest?”  
Theon shook his head. “I did for a while, but, I don’t know. I guess I started thinking about it more after I met your mum, and things just started to fall into place.”  
“Well.” Robb wriggled into a position more comfortable before he began. “You’re correct, I’m dead.” Robb went on to tell Theon of how he’d died young, at the age of sixteen. At the time he’d been a king, he’d been married, and he was a father, only to have been butchered at his uncle’s wedding after breaking a promise with a powerful man.  
“My mother had been dumped in this very river, and her anguish had been so tremendous that she was resurrected in one way or another with the sole purpose of bringing justice to my death and her own.”  
Theon leaned in, listening closely. “How did she do it?”

Robb gave him a look, and Theon knew what he was thinking of saying: ‘I said that you could only ask one question’. However, he answered, “Not only the creatures of the forest took pity, but the folk of your type too- she was a highly respected figure. People began to throw offerings into the Green Fork- gold and other kinds of wealth amongst it. She ended up using that wealth to lure guilty people to the river bank, she always drowned them slow.”

Theon did not answer for another minute or so, but Robb did not seem offended nor surprised- it was a lot to process. When Theon did respond, it was with another question, and before he had finished his sentence Robb had cut him off. 

“The deal was that I’d answer your question if you’d answer one of mine- let’s be fair.”  
“Fine,” Theon frowned, clearly bothered by whatever curiosity he had that went unanswered.  
Robb smiled. “Why do the Ironborn live on the mainland?”  
“What?” Theon asked, genuinely surprised by the question. “You’ve just told me about your own bloody death- literally, and you want to know why nobody lives on the Iron Islands?”  
“Yes? I never met anyone from the Iron Islands back in my time, but I heard plenty of stories. Your folk wouldn’t leave those islands unless you were cut down and taken by the Drowned God.”  
Theon laughed, “Drowned God? You mean the pub on Main Street?”  
Robb gave him a serious look. “I guess that I shouldn’t be surprised, nobody knows of any of the Old Gods anymore. It’s a shame. Anyway, my question still stands.”  
“Uh, well,” Theon began, scratching the back of his head. “It was a couple of generations ago that the government gave everyone the boot. Some environmentalists had thrown a fuss over how dangerous it was to live there. You know, with all the cliffs and saltwater wearing away at the old stone. There were protests and all that, and the disruption in the bay delayed shipping transport or something. The rest of Ireland got sick of it and the gov’ forced everyone to live here in New Pyke, funny right? It’s no epic story of love and war, just grotty old men making a ruckus.” 

Theon had heard about it countless times growing up, from his father, his siblings, and just about every other local in New Pyke. So it was rather satisfying to see how intrigued Robb was when he came to a stop. 

“Do you wish that you lived there still? On the islands?”  
“No,” Theon replied almost instantaneously. “Honestly, I did for a while but my dad took my siblings and I over there when I was pretty young and it never really seemed to live up to all the stories I’d heard about it. Besides, if we didn’t live out here, I’d’ve never met you.” 

The words were tumbling out of Theon’s mouth before he has the chance to think through what he was about to say, and the moment that they were out he so desperately wished to shove them back into his mouth again. Theon expected Robb to laugh at him, or at least roll his eyes or even make a joke about it, but Theon is mistaken again, because this is Robb. 

Robb has this look on his face, and he opens his mouth to say something but isn’t quick enough. Theon cuts him off, “I have another question.”  
“Okay, ask away. I’ll ask you one in return,” Robb replies slowly, not commenting on the abrupt change of topic.  
“You spoke about how you believe that your mother’s strong faith is what granted her the chance to avenge your death but,” he spoke quickly and paused to recollect his thoughts. “What about you? How are you here? Is there anyone else here?” 

Robb looked thoughtful for a moment. “My mother and I received both a gift and a curse. My mother’s mind was corrupted by our deaths, but her love for her children was just as pure and important as her dedication to her Gods. She thought most of her children to be dead in the time that she passed, and I guess that being able to see them again years later when their time did come was an act of forgiveness.”  
“What about your wife?”  
“She did not come here, the peace of death was the greatest gift for her. It has been so long that I don’t remember her face anymore.” 

The pair were sitting with Theon’s shoulder lost in the fur on Robb’s shoulders, their thighs pressed against one another, and Theon’s mind was buzzing. “What was your question in return?”

Robb took Theon by the sleeves, just like he had all those years ago and had continued to do ever since.

“Do you want to kiss me?” he asked, and Theon's heart stopped beating for a moment.

He had been expecting a question like the one before, something just a little bit obscure but simple to answer. Definitely not that. 

“Yes,” Theon replied, ashamed, his voice rising an octave higher than what he would have liked. 

Robb didn’t make a comment on it, and Theon didn’t even have the chance to start apologising- to tell Robb that he was fine if Robb wanted to pretend that Theon didn’t have a massive crush on him. Neither of them had the chance because they were lip-locked the moment Theon had said yes. Kissing Robb was everything that Theon had imagined it to be, but better. Robb’s lips were cool, like the river water, but Theon didn’t mind, and he figured that his own chapped lips couldn’t be all that pleasant. 

Part of Theon was devastated that this was not his first kiss, that earlier that year he’d met up with the Captain’s daughter a couple of times to make out under the docks, and then there was also Ros before her. But Robb kissed Theon like their mouths were made for each other, like they were the only ones in the world. Eventually, Theon had to pull away for air, and the fact that Robb wasn’t at all out of breath would have unsettled anyone else except for Theon. This was Robb, and how could Theon find it weird that breathing wasn’t a necessity to him when Theon had been more than happy to kiss him after hearing about his dead wife and child. 

“How long have you wanted to do that for?” Theon asked with lips numb from Robb’s cold skin, allowing himself to rock forward and rest his forehead on Robb’s shoulder.  
“A little while after your fifteenth birthday when you told me about how you’d kissed that Ros girl at school.”  
Theon laughed into Robb’s fur and he felt Robb shake his head. “Really?”  
“Yeah, really. What about you?”  
Theon pulled his head away so he could look into the gift that was Robb’s eyes. “I think I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day that I met you.”  
Robb grinned as he replied, “Do you think you’d want to kiss me again?”  
“Definitely,” Theon said, before kissing Robb so hard he nearly knocked him off the log.

The age of sixteen was one of the best years of his life. He was busier than any other year, with his new part-time job only adding to his pile of schoolwork and everyday housework. The job was nothing fancy- mostly just cleaning work at the Sea Bitch, but his father would let him borrow the truck if he really needed it. Even with his schedule becoming busier and busier, Theon still found time for Robb, and now his time at the river was spent snogging instead of playing card games. 

For the first few months after Theon’s birthday, Robb was more than hesitant to make out with Theon no matter how much he pleaded with him. The temperature had dropped tremendously low that winter and Robb was certain that he was going to freeze Theon’s lips off. One of the most memorable days was when it had been a rare snow day, and Robb had been so cold that they spent the day wandering the nearby woods holding a scarf between them. 

That year, Theon did not see Asha once. Theon would still find the envelope of money on his bedside table every couple of months, so obviously she still came round, but she always did so while he was at school or working. It hurt Theon only a little, but his father seemed to be much more irritated. Theon wasn’t sure if this was because he missed his daughter, or because each month she’d been sparing them less and less money, meaning that his supply for alcohol did not seem to be as endless as it used to be.

Theon rarely saw his father that year, and Balon had stopped hitting him so often too, at least, now he made an effort to avoid Theon’s face. New Pyke was a small town, and almost every child that grew up there had a less than great upbringing, but as Theon made it to the later years of school, after the vast majority had dropped out to work in the shipyard, a neglected child was much easier to spot, and much easier to report. So Theon’s home life went unnoticed by his teachers and fellow peers, but he could never escape the angered look that crossed Robb’s face when the two had stripped off their shirts. 

Summer had come again, and Theon was at the river in the late afternoon, laying on the bank trying to do his biology homework while Robb floated by him in the water every thirty seconds. 

“Come on, you can spare a couple minutes. The water is lovely today,” Robb repeated, drifting by once again.  
Theon shook his head, keeping his eyes down at his textbook. “No, Robb. I told you, I’m just about failing this class, I need to catch up or Mister Wendamyr will have my neck.”  
Robb scoffed, “He’s bluffing.”  
“Well, yeah, but he’s no fun to deal with either way.” 

The two returned to silence, but Theon couldn’t focus on the passage he was trying to read when he could feel Robb’s eyes on him from the water. 

“How about you draw me again? You still do- what do you call it? Studio arts, right? Don’t you have any studio arts homework?” Robb asked eagerly, drifting right up to the water’s edge.  
Theon thought about it, then closed his textbook. “Sure, I do need to start building up my portfolio.”  
Robb cheered happily and clambered out of the water while Theon worked his equipment out of his tattered school bag. 

Theon had first shown his drawings of Robb to his art teacher, Mister Murenmure, a little while after they had started learning to draw figures from textbook reference. Theon had wanted to practice his skills outside of the classroom and Robb had accepted. Murenmure had said that Theon was a natural, and showed the entirety of the class (three other students) the drawings as an example. When asked about who the model was, Theon had said that he was a character in one of his brother’s comic books- no one had questioned why the character often posed almost-erotically with only his undergarments on in some scenes. 

When Theon looked up and saw that Robb, who was facing away from him, was beginning to pull down his cotton undergarments, Theon just about fainted.

“What are you doing?” Theon squawked, his face red and his eyes wide.  
Robb only looked at him over his shoulder and smiled. “You said that all the proper artists practice on nude models- and I think that you’re already brilliant. Don’t worry- I won’t be embarrassed.” 

Robb wasn’t kidding, he seemed more than comfortable as he tossed his underwear away and turned to face Theon front-on, busying himself with finding a position to pose in while Theon tried not to gawk at the parts between his legs. For the first ten minutes, Theon could barely hold his pencil right because his hands trembled so hard, but Robb did not comment on this, or the blush on his face, or the fact that Theon sat cross legend with his sketchpad resting on his lap. 

The portrait did not turn out bad, not at all, but it wasn't until the second time Theon attempted to draw Robb in such a way that he could actually get a grip on his wandering mind. The embarrassment subsided, and Theon was able to draw Robb just the same as he drew the models from his school textbook. Robb was a brilliant model, and he could hold a pose so still that he seemed to be a photo from a textbook himself. When the second portrait was complete, Theon had walked over to Robb and touched him between his legs. 

Mister Murenmure was blown away by the collection of portraits that appeared in Theon’s portfolio a week and a half later and had encouraged Theon to let him send them in to the local newspaper in an effort to raise funds for the school’s art department. Theon, who was riding the wave of praise, had agreed without a second doubt. 

Towards the end of the school year, Theon’s father saw the segment in the paper and caught Theon when he was returning home from work in the late hours of a Thursday night. 

“Oh, dad. You’re still up,” Theon said, surprised to see his father at the dinner table. Then he noticed the newspaper sitting in front of him.  
Balon looked at him with a cold expression. “Is there something you want to tell me, boy?”  
“Mister Murenmure said that they were real good. He asked me to let him use the portraits in his article for the-”  
Balon cut him off, “Do you prefer drawing boys, or girls, son?”  
Theon knew exactly what his father was asking, but he still stammered out a reply, “Well- I’ve always found the male body more interesting because of the toning of muscles and straight lines-” 

It was no use, Balon was up out of his chair in seconds, and he’d caught Theon by the shoulders, shoving him into the wall so hard that the plaster cracked behind him and the air was forced from his lungs. Theon was paralysed, and his mind was foggy as Balon screamed at him, shaking him by the shoulders as he cursed him out.

Balon grasped Theon’s overgrown curls in his fist as he gave him a snarl of a warning, “I swear, boy. If I ever see you in the same goddamned room as me again I’ll knock your teeth out, and if I find out that any boy of yours has been ‘round here I’ll beat you fucking bloody!” 

Theon was shoved away from his father, who stormed out of the kitchen and slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, leaving Theon to sink to the floor. Theon did not cry. Even as the anxiety that had been triggered from truly believing that he was going to die refused to leave him be even an hour later. When he eventually pulled himself from the floor, his eyes watered as a reflex to the pain that shot through his back and ribs, and when he fell into his bed he still stunk of the beer and bile that his father had rubbed off on him. 

The next day, Theon called in sick to both school and his job, because as much as longed to be out of the house, the pain in his back had not lessened in the slightest overnight. He awoke in the early hours of the morning to his father roaming the house as he prepared for work, and even though Theon’s bladder begged to be relieved he had stayed in his bedroom until he heard the front door close. 

Theon believed that this would be the last time he’d ever see his father, but when game night came around the next week and it was his father’s turn to host, Balon had sought Theon out in his bedroom. Whether he believed his son to be a disappointment or not, he still needed someone to prepare their food, roll their cigarettes, and fetch them beers from the outdoor fridge. 

He never ended up telling Robb about the incident between himself and his father, but on a cool night where Robb decided that they were going to lay on the riverbank and watch the stars with their shirts off, Theon knew that he saw the cascade of bruises even in the dark. Perhaps Robb knew that if Theon hadn’t mentioned it already there was no use asking, he wasn’t going to tell him what happened. But Robb still moved so that they could lay on their sides with his stomach and chest pressed against Theon’s back, allowing the chill of his skin to soothe his ache. 

Theon never told Robb because on the night, and for many more after, he had felt a desire that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Theon wanted to run away from Pyke, and he wanted to leave everything else behind him in this godforsaken town, even if that meant he’d lose Robb too.

Autumn came, as did Theon’s seventeenth birthday, and with it was the school year coming to its end. Theon was excited to be completing his second last year of school, and Mister Murenmure continued to encourage his passion for the arts, even if it had been dwindled by his father’s harsh words. He had even begun to look at art schools on the library’s public computers. 

Theon spent the night of his birthday at the river with Robb, and was endlessly grateful that it hadn’t fallen on the night after the next when he was meant to be stuck at home helping his father host game night. The pair sat close together on the bank watching the water drift by, Robb’s skin was cool tonight, but he was warmed by the glossy fur that they had slung over both their shoulders like a blanket. Theon was watching the old analogue watch fastened on his wrist just below Robb’s bracelet, waiting until the clock struck twelve. 

“Happy Birthday, love,” Robb said softly, tilting his head to catch Theon’s lips with his own.  
Theon accepted it with a smile, his head still spinning from the feeling of Robb’s lips against his own even after a year. “Did you get me a gift?”  
Robb leaned into Theon and guided the now older boy to lay on his back against the fur between himself and the mud. “Of course.” 

Robb climbed on top of Theon, straddling his waist and kissing him deeply. Theon knew what was coming and his body buzzed with excitement, for a while now Robb had been hinting at going further than the handjobs that they had exchanged in the past few months. Robb pulled away to pull off his own garments, and Theon rushed to do the same, but when he arched his back to get his shirt off and his crotch rubbed against Robb’s, causing a gasp to escape both boys, everything became very real. 

“Theon, are you sure that you want to continue with this? We don’t have to if you want- need- more time,” Robb said in a moment of seriousness, and Theon’s heart swelled so large in his chest that it hurt.  
Theon reached up to rub his palm over Robb’s cheek and up into his ginger locks, which seemed to glow even in the darkness of midnight. “Robb, I am sure. I’m sure that I want to lay with you tonight like it’s our last night ever.”  
Robb gave a husky laugh and Theon’s skin prickled with delight. “Listen, uh, Theon. You remember that time when you said that no matter how much you hate it here in Pyke, you’re glad that you had the chance to meet me?”  
Theon nodded, his face twisting into the slightest of a frown.  
“Well,” Robb continued, “I can’t help but wonder if my life would have been different back in my time if I had you there beside me.”  
Theon couldn’t help but laugh, only because if he didn’t he was most definitely going to tell Robb that he loves him. “God, you’re such a sap. Now, don’t you dare blue ball me, Stark.” 

Robb gave another burst of laughter at Theon’s reaction, and his head sunk down into Theon’s neck. When his teeth grazed the thin skin of Theon’s collarbones, and Theon made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, neither of them were laughing anymore, and Theon had never felt so close to Robb. 

For the first time, Theon awoke on the river bank with Robb still sleeping in his arms, both of them naked and tangled in each other's limbs. Theon crept out of Robb’s tight hold as gently as he could manage, but as he waded into the river to bathe in the early morning sun, Robb’s arms snaked over his shoulders only minutes later.

“Tell me,” Theon spoke softly, and Robb hummed in reply, his chin on Theon’s shoulder. “What is it that your family used to say, again?”  
Theon felt Robb place a kiss behind his ear before he answered, “Winter is coming, love.”  
Theon nodded. “And… what did the Ironborn use to say? Did they have a saying too?”  
Robb took much longer to reply, and when he spoke his voice was hushed, “What is dead may never die.”

Robb had begged Theon to stay with him there at the river until the afternoon, but Theon had to refuse- as much as he longed to stay, his stomach craved food that wasn’t wild berries and he had school. Theon swore that he would return to the river tomorrow morning after he helped his father host his game night. 

Theon caught the bus to school with a bounce in his step, and not because of the ache in his lower back. His classes went slow as he counted down the hours until Saturday morning, and when the evening settled, and his father’s friends arrived for game night, time seemed to pass even slower than before. The usual men came on time, handing their six-packs to Theon to go put in the fridge for them, but it wasn’t until later that Roose showed up. Theon was always surprised by how easily the man slotted in with the Ironborn folk, but he never brought it up with his father, and definitely did not take part in the obnoxious cheers that the men gave when he eventually came through the front door. 

The men jeered at his excuses for running late but still patted his empty seat at the table, but Roose jutted his thumb back at the front door. 

“We’re going to need another seat tonight. Theon, grab one won’t you?” he asked Theon, who had been rolling a pile of cigarettes at the kitchen bench, with no kindness in his voice. 

Theon nodded quickly and left to find a chair, but as he grabbed the empty chair by the door, a pair of large hands covered his own.

“Please, let me,” a voice said, and Theon looked up in surprise to see the bartender from his sixteenth birthday smiling at him politely.  
Theon backed away, still processing the pieces that came together- that of course, he was Roose Bolton’s son, when Balon gave a sneer. “No, no, boy. It’s alright, let Theon carry it for you, Ramsay.”  
Ramsay shook his head. “It’s okay, really. Here, go ahead and make room in the fridge for these.”  
Balon made no comment so Theon obeyed with a wordless nod, scooping the packs of beer into his arms and slipping out the back door to put them in the fridge as Ramsay had asked. 

As the night continued, Theon noticed how Ramsay fit in with the men just as well as his father did, only that he was much more polite as they played their games of poker. Theon mostly went unnoticed, collecting the empty cans and bottles as each guest finished them, and planting a new one by their side before they could complain. The game was put on hold when Balon had to excuse himself to the bathroom, and Theon took a moment to escape out the back door for fresh air. There was a breeze tonight, and treated himself to his own cigarette as the trees whispered back and forth amongst one another. 

The door swung open, and Theon startled as Ramsay stepped out onto the back porch.  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Came out for a smoke,” Ramsay explained with a friendly smile, holding up one of Theon’s rolled cigarettes between his fingers.  
Theon hummed in reply as Ramsay lit his own cigarette with a lighter. “Are you enjoying the game? I haven’t caught much of it but I think your dad is doing pretty well.”  
“Yeah, I’ve played my fair share but they’re a challenge. I reckon it’s getting easier though, the beer is making their poker faces slip,” Ramsay said and Theon gave a snort of a reply.  
Ramsay spoke again when the conversation came to an end, “How have you been, Theon? I haven’t seen you since you were at the pub last year.”  
“I’ve been busy, schoolwork, working in general, you know?”  
Ramsay nodded slowly, gazing out into the trees for a moment. Then- “Hey, Theon. Listen, back at the pub you mentioned that you wanted to get away from here- that you wanted to move to England, or something.”  
Theon frowned. “Yeah?”  
“I’m going back to Scotland tomorrow. Do you want to go with me?”  
“What?” Theon asked, startled by such a question.  
Ramsay continued, “You’re too good for a place like this, Theon, and this might be your only way out of here. I saw your art in the paper- you don’t need to finish high school with skills like that. If you don’t leave now, you’ll be stuck working at the Sea Bitch the rest of your life.”  
Theon spluttered and struggled to think of an argument that wasn’t anything to do with Robb.  
Ramsay gave him a long look, and Balon’s voice could be heard in the kitchen again. “Meet me at the Drowned God tomorrow by ten in the morning if you want a way out of this country. This is your only chance, Greyjoy.”

Ramsay went back inside to continue their game, and Theon was eventually called upon too. The night carried on until late, and Ramsay did not speak another word to Theon, who was continuing his service in autopilot as he thought the order over. Theon did not sleep that night. He left for town at dawn, hours before his father would be awake, and notice that nobody was around to cook him breakfast. 

Theon packed a bag and stole the keys to his father’s truck and travelled into town, parking the old thing in the alleyway beside the Drowned God and leaving the keys in the glovebox. He tried to ignore the way that the wind had been so strong as he walked towards the car, that it had almost seemed like the trees were howling at him and begging him to instead go to the river. As he moved towards the door, he took a moment to try and quiet the sickness in his stomach as he looked around the main street, which was always like a ghost town after a Friday night. Theon knocked on the door to the bar, unsure if he was too early to be meeting Ramsay here, after all, the older man had said ‘before ten in the morning’.

The door swung open a moment later and Theon tried his best to smile politely, but really he just pressed his lips into a thin line across his face. Ramsay didn’t seem to be expecting a bright smile from Theon, as he did not comment on it, but his own face was lit up in delight as he found Theon at his door. 

“Have you made your decision, Theon? Are you ready to fly?” Ramsay asked, with that familiar look in his eyes once again.  
Theon nodded. “Yes, I didn’t tell anyone that I was coming here.”  
“Good. You’re early too, I like that. Come on, there won’t be as much traffic this time in the morning.”

Ramsay closed the door on Theon for a minute or two, and when it reopened Ramsay had his bag slung over his shoulder and was locking the door behind him. Ramsay walked over to his car and Theon followed, it was a distinct vehicle, a large four-wheel-drive with a large spotlight attached above the windscreen. Ramsay had Theon put his bag in the boot and take a seat with him in the front, but not long into the drive, Theon climbed through to the backseat so he could lay down and have a nap. 

The sights that they passed were magnificent, as Theon had never left Pyke in the whole seventeen years of his life, but with every route marker they passed, the more the worry in his chest became more prominent. Theon kept quiet about his worries, and Ramsay did ease them. Ramsay was nice, a kind of nice that was definitely different from Robb, but he managed to make Theon smile more than twice. 

No more than two hours in was when Theon began to feel hungry, and he and Ramsay pulled off the main road and into a petrol station. Theon had brought his own money, but Ramsay was kind enough to buy him food and a warm drink nonetheless. Ramsay was entertaining and distracted him with stories of his travels long enough that the anxiety would leave Theon and he could stomach his food. Ramsay even purchased Theon a book from the small store attached to the station, no one had ever bought Theon a gift so easily before. 

Theon was still exhausted, but instead of going to lay down in the back, he chose to rest his eyes while still seated in the passenger's seat, dozing off and back while Ramsay continued to tell funny stories from hunting trips. Eventually, they passed through and into Northern Ireland, and then the coastline came into sight. 

There was a ferry system that would take them across, but first, they had to spend an hour waiting on someone. Ramsay pointed him out when he saw him as the next ferry came in, a man who worked aboard one of the barges. He was a man with thick, brown but greying hair and a beard, and his face was creased with wrinkles that formed from squinting at the reflection of the sun on the water. Ramsay got his attention and did the talking for the both of them, and after a sum of cash was exchanged he agreed to make sure Theon got through safely. Legally, a man under the age of eighteen without a form of identification would have no chance at making the cross. 

Thankfully, Theon was allowed to stay in the car with Ramsay while they crossed, as the man on board who was going around checking driver’s licenses as they left was told by, who Ramsay called Davos, to ignore the boy traveling with Ramsay. It had been a long while since Theon had travelled on the water, especially on something as big as a barge, and Ramsay allowed him to leave the car and go to the edge of the ship. 

He was leaned over the edge watching the cold seawater race by when Davos came to stand beside him. “You never seen seawater, boy?”  
Theon startled for a moment, “Ah, no, I have. I grew up in New Pyke.”  
“New Pyke? I’ve never heard of it.”  
“I’d assume so. It’s right by Ironman’s Bay,” Theon explained.  
Davos nodded to that. “My apologies, the people of that bay are skilled sailors.”  
“None taken,” Theon replied easily. “Is he related to you?”  
Davos looked to where Theon had referenced. “Yes, you’ve got a sharp eye. This is the Black Betha, the men who work it are all sons of mine.” 

The conversation was interrupted when Theon noticed Ramsay waiting at the car with his arms crossed. 

“It was nice speaking with you, Davos.” Theon paused to see if he’d gotten his name correct and then continued, “But I’ll let you go.”  
Davos nodded. “To you too. You’re a good lad, sorry, what was your name, boy?”  
“Theon, Theon Greyjoy.” Theon said as he turned to leave.  
“I hope we meet again,” Davos said in a soft voice.  
Theon smiled and gave him a nod of agreement, choosing not to voice the fact that if his plan succeeded, he’d be nowhere near Ireland for the rest of his life.

Davos let him go and made his way back to his duties as Theon reached the car. Ramsay gave him a look that was cold, and it made Theon shiver as he climbed back into the passenger’s seat. 

“What were you thinking, Theon? Were you thinking at all? Did you tell him your name?” Ramsay snarled when they were both back in the car, and Theon figured Ramsay would be all but screaming if they weren't in public.  
Theon stuttered as he tried to respond and Ramsay repeated himself, “Did you tell him your fucking name or not?”  
“No,” Theon lied, shrinking back into his seat a little. “I didn’t. I swear it.”  
Ramsay gave a sigh of relief and Theon remained still while the older man leaned forward onto his palms. The apology came a few minutes later. 

“Listen, Theon. I’m sorry for yelling at you but you really scared me back there. What if someone came looking? Or someone reports you missing and Davos tells the police that you travelled here? They’d take you back to Pyke after all the effort you’ve made to leave.”  
“I doubt that anyone will. Report me missing, I mean, or come looking,” Theon replied quietly.  
Ramsay turned to face him. “I would. I’d travel the whole of Europe if I lost you, and they’re fools to not want to do the same.”

They made it to Scotland in the afternoon, and stopped again only an hour away from Dreadfort for lunch, which Ramsay paid for. At lunch, Ramsay made the offer for Theon to come and stay with him for a little while so that they could get him a fake passport. Theon accepted. 

Ramsay was kind to Theon, and Theon enjoyed his company enough that he stayed in Dreadfort for a month longer than he had planned to, Ramsay allowed him to wander the gardens of the large property his father owned, but Theon was not allowed to go into town. Theon didn't like the gardens much though, the trees here were not as kind as the ones back home, he preferred reading in the library instead. Eventually, Ramsay began to have Theon cooking for him as a payment for living in his home, and Theon agreed because the cooking gave him something to do. Ramsay first struck him when Theon dropped a plate and sent it shattering against the floor. 

Ramsay had Theon trapped less than a fortnight later and had begun to take away his belongings shortly after. Theon finally realised why that look in Ramsay’s eyes was so familiar. Even with a smile, Ramsay had the same eyes as Theon’s father, his brothers, and Roose Bolton too. One evening, while Ramsay was showering before dinner, Theon took one of the kitchen knives and brought it to his wrist, slipping it under the beloved bracelet that Robb had given him and cutting the synthetic rope. 

Tears swelled in Theon’s eyes as it fell onto the counter, the bells on it did not jingle anymore as he stuffed them with cotton weeks before to keep it hidden, but he knew that what he was doing was keeping it safe. Theon slipped the charm into a small hole he’d made in his mattress and went back to cooking dinner. 

Balon Greyjoy was a drunk with anger issues and demons, but Ramsay was a blatant psychopath. He enjoyed hurting Theon, and his friends liked to watch, and he made sure that Theon was loyal to him- that he was grateful to Ramsay for getting him out of Ireland. Months trickled by too quickly for Theon’s liking, and with every day his heart still wept for Robb no matter how hard he had tried to keep his thoughts away from him. The last thing he needed was Ramsay hearing him cry out for Robb in his sleep. 

There was only one time that Theon had tried to make a run for it so long ago, and when he’d been caught Ramsay broke three of his fingers so badly that he decided to cut them off the next day. Thankfully he’d only lost the pinkie off of his right hand, so Ramsay had deemed him acceptable to continue doing the housework. It had kept Theon up at night wondering what Ramsay would have done if he seemed defective.

“Your father’s dead. Folks found him in the bay, they say that he fell off the docks,” Ramsay said as Theon filled his glass for him at dinner, Theon’s body tensed but he did not spill a drop.  
“Do you wish to travel back to Pyke for the funeral service?” Ramsay continued, looking up at Theon expectantly.  
“No, sir,” Theon replied. “Everything that I need is right here in Dreadfort.”

Ramsay never asked about Theon’s birthday, but it was as if they celebrated it nonetheless because Ramsay liked to celebrate the day Theon left Pyke with him- two days after his birthday. That night Ramsay had beat him so hard that he cracked one of his ribs before leaving him to sleep in the kennel with the dogs, and the following day he left for a two-week trip back to Pyke. In his absence, friends of his came to check on Theon- to make sure that he was still there, but during one of his few periods of solitary was when the phone rang. 

Theon was not allowed to answer the phone, but was told to do so on this occasion in case Ramsay wanted to check in on him. The voice that spoke on the other end was definitely not Ramsay. 

“Asha?” Theon asked in a whisper, his eyes wide as he pressed the phone against his ear.  
“Thank God, I finally got through to you,” she replied, with genuine relief in her voice.  
Theon stuttered, “How did you know that I would answer?”  
“I didn’t. I got home a month after you went missing. People were searching the entire Green Fork for your body, but I knew that you weren’t dead. I asked around and eventually, someone spilled that dad’s truck was at the Drowned God some days before you were reported missing. Ramsay Bolton was gone too.”  
His sister was too smart for her own good. “Gods, Asha, I never thought I’d be this happy to hear your voice.”  
“Same to you, little brother. You have to come home, Uncle Euron is back and I think that he’s got something to do with dad’s death.”  
Theon’s smile faltered. “I can’t.”  
“You can’t?”  
“I’m in Scotland right now. I couldn't get home if I tried.”  
There was a long pause. “Theon, are you hurt?”  
“What? No,” Theon lied but he couldn’t help it, a sob tore through his throat.  
“Theon, I need you to listen to me. I am going to drive up to the port and stay there for three days. You need to find a way out and make the cross.”  
“I-” Theon froze as he heard the gate screech open. “Someone is coming. I’ll be there. Don’t phone the police yet. They’ll know.” 

Theon hung up on his sister and scampered away from the phone, drying his eyes on his sleeve and pretending to read a book as one of Theon’s friends peered through the window. 

Theon made his move the next day, Ramsay would be back the day after. Theon dug out the old clothes of his that Ramsay had hidden away, even if they were too big and reeked of dust he didn’t care, he never wanted to smell like Ramsay Bolton again. Theon dug the bracelet out of his mattress and despite the fact that he was on a time limit, he resealed the bracelet after cutting free the diamond ring. On foot, Theon climbed the gate with his bag on his back, the ring in his pocket, and a kitchen knife hidden below his shirt, before blindly following the road in the protection of the trees that lined it. 

Theon spotted a car that he had never seen before and stuck his thumb out, and in exchange for the diamond ring, the woman in the driver’s seat drove him all the way to the port. During the drive, she tried to convince him to instead go to the hospital but Theon shook his head again and again, telling her that he had somewhere to be. After being dropped off, the waiting game began as Theon watched each barge come in and out, and by the time he assumed that he would have been found missing and reported to Ramsay, the Black Betha arrived. 

Davos was waiting on board as the last cars left, and Theon tried to keep the shakiness out of his hands as he approached the older man. Davos turned to Theon, and when he first noticed the Greyjoy he began to smile, but then he noticed his ragged appearance and looked at him with deep concern. He was about to speak, but Theon silenced him by pressing the kitchen knife to his stomach, still hidden by the sleeve of his coat, with enough pressure to give it away but without cutting him. 

“I need to get across, but I haven’t any money to pay you with. I swear, I’ll gut you if you don’t give me safe passage.”  
Davos only raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I hear you. I don’t want any trouble, just come up to the bride with me. We can’t have you out here the whole journey or you’ll freeze.” 

Theon was angered by Davos’ kindness, but he did not argue, just moved the knife to rest at his back as a warning as they walked. Davos tried to talk to Theon multiple times during their travels, but Theon didn’t want to respond, he only sat in the corner with the knife out like a cornered animal. 

“It was that man you were with who did this, didn’t he?” Davos asked as he peered at Theon’s missing fingers.  
Theon glanced at him. “How do you remember?”  
“I remember every face who crosses on this barge. Now tell me, how old were you when I helped you cross?” Davos asked, a remorseful look in his eyes.  
“I was two days over seventeen.”  
“Lord,” Davos sighed, and moved closer to Theon.  
Theon tensed and held up the knife. “You should be afraid of me. I don’t have much to live for- I’ll hurt you.”  
Theon’s threat only seemed to sadden Davos further. “I don’t want to hurt you, son. I just have to get to this board.” 

When they arrived, Theon was skittish as he searched for Asha, and when he saw her from the bridge, his knife clattered to the floor. Theon had rushed out without knowing Davos was right behind him and made his way over to his sister, who was looking at him with a stony face to hide her devastation. Asha grabbed a blanket from the back of the truck and wrapped it over her brother’s shoulders, who was shaking from not the cold, but emotion. 

“Sir, could you please phone the police and report a fellow named Ramsay Bolton. If he tries to escape Ireland, make sure none of the barges let him cross, either,” Asha said to Davos, who agreed in an instant. 

Asha guided Theon into the passenger’s seat and began their drive home with not a second to lose. One of her terrible CDs was playing again and Theon couldn’t help but laugh, although it came out sounding like anything but.

“What?” Asha asked, glancing over.  
Theon shook his head. “I never knew I’d be so happy to hear your horrible music again.” Then he began to cry. 

Asha didn’t attempt to silence the soft sobs that rocked his body, or criticize him at all, she just kept her eyes on the road and focused on driving as he cried himself to sleep beside her. With Balon gone and dead, Asha had taken up their old house as their own, and in the year and longer that Theon had been thought to be dead, she had left his room the way that it was. It seemed that now she had more money, she’d touched up the house too, and when Theon asked if she was planning on selling it she said no, that there were too many memories in that house that she didn’t think she could leave it to someone else. 

While Theon showered and ate, Asha was pacing around the house making phone calls almost non-stop, and Theon wondered if it was about him or the suspicions she’d had about Uncle Euron. Theon was glad that the man had been gracious enough to get a place in town, rather than crash at their home. However, their home was invaded by two police officers, who against Asha’s will, had been sent to camp outside their house until Ramsay was detained. Theon figured that Asha allowed them to stay because it was either that or Theon being taken away to Riverrun for intensive care and protection. He didn’t want to go.

At first Asha let them stay out there in the cold of winter, but one day she invited them in for coffee. Theon still had months before he’d be able to trust anyone besides Asha in the slightest, but the officers nice enough. They were both blonde. The woman, Officer Brienne Tarth, was tall and freckled with a crooked nose and uneven teeth. The man, Officer Jaime Lannister, had the appearance of a model you’d see in a magazine, but Theon saw the two officers share affectionate touches more than thrice. 

It was a few nights later that everything came to the end. Asha had been staying up almost all night every night keeping watch for Ramsay, who had still managed to evade all of the police across Ireland who were looking for him, but tonight she finally crashed and fell into a deep sleep. Theon was sitting in his bed with the window cracked open. He still hadn’t been to the river, had not been able to find the strength to face Robb, but the Trees still spoke to him as if he had never been foolish enough to have left. 

When Theon heard the sound of tires crunching against the gravel of their driveway, his blood ran cold. The spotlight above the windscreen flicked on and momentarily blinded Theon, and then a bullet was cracking through the glass a mere inch away from his head. As Theon tumbled out of bed with a loud thud, and the same fear that he’d felt when he was sure that his father was going to kill him washed over him. In the kitchen, Asha burst out of her bedroom and immediately began to go for the hunting rifle their father kept in his old room. 

Theon could hear Brienne and Jaime shouting at Ramsay, but then he heard the sound of Ramsay’s dogs, at least two of them. 

“Go, Theon! Make a run for it!” Asha all but screamed at him as she loaded the gun and made her way towards the front door. Theon knew that Asha would not be able to protect him, neither would Jaime and Brienne. 

In his nightwear, Theon rushed through the house and out of the back door, but as he heard Asha burst out of the front door only to be silenced by another series of gunshots and a scream, he knew that he couldn’t leave her. Theon ran around the side of the house and waved his arms above his head, screaming at Ramsay to come and get him. He wouldn’t let his sister die over his mistakes. Still blinded by the light, he knew that he’d gotten Ramsay’s attention when another bullet whizzed by and cracked into a tree nearby him.

Turning on his bare heels Theon took off running and he knew that the hunt had begun. Back in Dreadfort, Ramsay had often taken that brute of a car into the woodlands for their hunting trips, and when he returned he’d have birds, goats, and deer. Theon had seen those dogs of his chase down deer and other animals on the rare occasion when Ramsay would take him out on hunting trips with him and he wondered if the officers had been quick enough to put them down with a bullet. 

Theon himself had first gone hunting as a boy but had cried when his brother shot down the most beautiful bird he’d seen. Right now, Theon felt like a deer.

He stumbled blindly through the woods as shots rang out above and around him, and soon the river came into sight. Theon felt his heart well with hope, then, a bullet struck him in his side.

Theon lost his footing and crashed into the ground as blood spilled between his fingers from the wound above his hip. He rolled through the crisp winter mud as he tumbled down onto the riverbank, and all he could do was crawl as Ramsay caught up to him. 

“Robb, Robb,” Theon repeated with blood spilling from his lip, which he’d bitten open when he fell.  
“What is that? What are you mumbling?” Ramsay seethed as he stormed down onto the bank. “Is this what you wanted, Greyjoy? Would you rather this than the life I gave you in Dreadfort,” he laughed aloud.  
“To think that you were so desperate to get away from here that you’d let an adult you barely knew to take you away.” 

Ramsay’s boot pressed onto Theon’s back, right where the bullet had come through, and the pain was so great that Theon saw white. His fingertips met the water’s edge, and with it, his blood. 

The figure that leapt out the water was so monstrous that Theon may have thought that he bled out there and then, but that would have been impossible, Ramsay would have had a few more minutes with him. The figure had the body of a human and downed an outfit in all black, with a long cape pinned to their collar by two metal wolf heads. The mortifying part was their head, which was not that of a human but instead the head of a wolf. Theon was still spinning from pain as the sound of Ramsay’s screams rang through his ears, and he managed to shift his body just enough to see Ramsay writhing on the bank nearby as the wolf mauled him. 

“Robb,” Theon heaved again in almost a whisper and the wolf sat up straight, their hands still grasping Ramsay’s bloody collar.  
The figure rose to their feet, and when they turned to Theon, he saw that the wolf head was now gone, and his beloved Robb was there before him. Robb paced over to him slowly and sunk to his knees, rolling Theon over as gently as possible before moving his bloody hand away, instead covering the wound with his own and applying pressure to slow the bleeding. 

Theon made a strangled sound of pain and tried to push Robb’s hands away, who calmly said, “You can still survive, love. The... police are on their way, if you stop struggling they will make it to you in time.”  
“No, no… I,” Theon’s head lolled from side to side. “I want to stay with you- in the river.”  
Robb shook his head. “You don’t need to die, love.”  
“I died in that river when I was eight years old. I’ve been drowning ever since then,” Theon reasoned. “What is dead may never die.” 

Robb stiffened, and then he leaned down to press a soft kiss to Theon’s bloody lips, and the touch was so tender that tears spilled from Theon’s eyes. Robb’s hands eased away from the wound on Theon’s side, and he slowly helped the now older boy off of the ground and onto his feet. Robb’s hands were so cold that they numbed the skin that they touched in seconds. Now that he was standing, a heavy stream of blood spilled from Theon’s side and spilled onto the banks, and if Robb’s strong arms weren’t wrapped around his frame he would have fallen back down into the dirt. 

Together, they began to walk into the river one step at a time. The water was so cold that ice could be seen floating by, and Theon’s eyes were blown wide by the shock. Still, he did not turn back. The further in they got, the dizzier Theon got from both the freezing cold temperatures and the amount of his blood that was mixing in with the river. When they were deep enough, Robb eased Theon into the river, and the older boy sunk to the bottom easily. Everything seemed to pass by Theon slowly as he lay amongst the mud and rocks with his eyes wide, and he felt no pain as the water filled his mouth and lungs. 

When most people spoke of freezing to death, they spoke of how the cold would creep into your bones and weigh you down with exhaustion, but the longer Theon lay there, the faster the pain in his body left him. When Theon had been dropped into the water it had only been waist-deep, but he began to doubt that as figures started to surround him in the water at a standing height. 

The people who surrounded him in the water, most of which resembled Robb’s ginger hair and blue eyes, looked to be a mix of children to young adults, but Theon knew better than to assume the age of a river spirit based on their appearance. Theon was one of them too now, he figured as Robb embraced him tightly in his arms and the weight left his bones.

“Theon, love. You are as much of a Stark as you are a Greyjoy,” Robb whispered into Theon’s ear, and the water didn’t feel cold anymore.

\- - -

When Brienne and Jaime arrived at the riverbank, Ramsay Bolton was not dead. He was charged with the attempted murder of Asha Greyjoy and the murder of her younger brother, his body was never found. There was also the fact that he’d assaulted an officer when the dogs he sicked on them had caused Officer Lannister to lose his hand. The list of charges against Ramsay was so long that even the best lawyer his father could buy couldn’t stop him from receiving a lifetime in prison.  
On the matter which was what had happened to Ramsay at the river, there was never a solid answer. Many believed that it was Theon himself who tore the man’s face to pieces in an act of self-defence, few believed Ramsay, who said that it was a man with the head of a wolf. The eldest of Pyke’s residents claimed that it was the mysterious Drowned God that they’d heard their great grandparents speak of as children, that the God had savaged Ramsay’s face as punishment for harming someone of the Ironborn descent. 

Theon heard all this from Asha, who for a few weeks after would come down to sit by the small memorial built for her brother on that riverbank. She’d sit on the log that he and Robb used to sit on and tell him about everything that was happening, unknowing to the fact that he was listening. The last time she came by was to apologise to him, to tell him that she had sold the house to be demolished and that she was going to move into a place closer to town. She planned on going to seek out their mother. 

“I remember,” she said that day, sitting on her jacket which lay on the bank. “When you were eight years old, our brothers almost drowned you in this river. You had been so ill that mum was ready to drive you all the way to the hospital in Riverrun if dad had let her, you were so strong and you lived. But I also remember that you’d been so… persistent on the fact that you’d met a boy who lived in the river. I forget his name, forgive me. After that, you’d disappear into the woods so often, even on the days that I was back on land. There was the way that you tried to warn us about Rodrik, but mum and dad wouldn’t spare you a second.” She paused to laugh at that, almost in disbelief. 

Asha looked down the pile of paper that she had in her lap, it was the portraits of Robb that Theon had kept hidden in his desk. “I never thought much of it, but now I can’t help but think. If your river boy was real, I hope that he is treating you well.”  
At the end of her rant, Asha seemed to chuckle and shake her head as if what she had said was nonsense, and Theon longed to speak to her again. 

Asha stood and brushed off her coat. “Goodbye, little brother. This is the last time we will speak.” Then, she was gone. 

With the property demolished, grandparents would send their children to the river bank to give offerings of gold to who they still believed to be the Drowned God. Robb believed that they thought it would bring them good fortune, or give protection to their family at sea. One day, Brienne and Jaime even came to offer their apologies, as they had sworn to protect Theon and had been unable to keep their promise. Jaime had Brienne take the gold watch off of his left wrist and they tossed it into the river, just as they heard the locals do. 

Theon found himself ever grateful to those folks as one day, on the anniversary of Theon’s death, Roose Bolton travelled to the river and made the foolish mistake of taking a closer look at the gold watch which lay at the water’s edge.

The End.


End file.
